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Saturday, August 1, 2009

This is the finest picture I feel, he is blind but he tolerated me and enjoyed being photographed , shooting a blind man with eyes closed is an experience too.I went through myriad of emotion , breaching the darkness of my soul..though holding the Nikon 80- 200 AF lens added to the crux of my pain.. of unearning photography.

Randall j Der Pro User says:

he teaches me.

ok now tell me who is this human?

shooting a blind manwith eyes closedas he stood silently and posedwithin the darkness of my soulthe pain and passion of firozea tumultuous fervoran unrelenting pathI choseto be or not to bea thought arosesearching for peaceat another mans doorsmy destiny a dead fishkissing the waters ofdistant shoresa world of hijrastransgender whoresdark secrets buriedunder the floor

Ismail Chacha has been blinded in both the eyes due to doctors negligence , first he lost one and than the next eye, he was an Army man, and later worked for Bombay Port Trust, he once owned a lot of property all usurped by friends and relatives.

His wife is Hafiza Bi wwho sells ladies and childrens garments on a hand cart near the Agha Khani Jamatkhana also at Bandra Bazar Road.

They have a daughter settled in Manhattan New York, a grandson in London..one of the grandsons in Mumbai, Abdulla is a hair stylist for films. I dont know much about his other children as this is a journalist blog but I lack the in depth of a journo for details I have no time nor the inclination..I have no editorial constrains either ..I shoot what my heart tells me to shoot..period.

His wife Hafiza Bi has lived in New York for several months could not bear the winter chill she tells me.

Whatever pension Ismail Chacha gets most of it I am told is given away to the poor and the needy, the kids love him he gives them sweets , though they lead him by the hand to his sisters house close to my shop.

His father was cook in the Jinnah and Nizam family.

They are Konkani Muslims hailing from a place called Pawas.

Ismail Chacha is a very friendly and a jovial guy who loves reciting shairi and love poems.

Today I was in a mood with my Nikon AF 80/200 ED Lens 2.8 ..I normally use wide , but all the pictures I short today are with this lens..I had bought it for Rs 40000 from my friend Subhash Solanki , this and the 20mm 2.8 were the main lens in my arsenal and a 50mm 1.4..but these are non digital lens..

As I am stuck in Mumbai and in Bandra my subjects are the same ,thanks to Akbar Simonese , I hope to become a versatile street photographer like him, I am not ashamed to say I am emulating him..

I shot this against my shop door..this is the only peaceful pictorial place that soothes my soul and my subjects too..

photo bloggingthe soul of humanitya camera lensembedded like shivas eyein the caverns of the skullnever a moment dullb/w copy of originalrobbed of the highlightsthe flight of a seagullwings of fancyas they scullgift of friendshipto an angel and randall

I prefer street guys or my shop help when they shoot pictures , they take you at face value, they dont go about stealing souls, here it was a qualified experienced photographer shooting me disguised as an exorcist and though my flesh was willing my spirit was weak. ]

I dont think..because I dont think life becomes easier as a journey towards the dark side of the moon..

Angels enterwhere fools fear to treadNow dont tell this to fredman lives by waternot just only breadfred the coolest dudesporting Bob Marleysdreadhead

This and the following pictures of this series were shot by Mr PK Bhatia , he too taught me photography once upon a time , though I wanted to know more about old veteran photographers like Bhardwaj, Kashinath , Unwalla and Mitter Bedi Syed Saab, .and the early founding fathers of Photographic,Society of India my erstwhile camera club.PK and I meet mostly during the Idd Namaz at the Bandra Station, and he is an excellent shot.

We met at the Bandra Bazar Road Market where all this was shot.

The hair color was a disaster I told Billoo Barber Salim the 11 year old barber kid to make Henna for applying on my hair, he used Henna color instead, he charged me Rs 40/

Monotony is the mother of all invention, and the camera keeps boredom at bay, if only my work could give me the necessary peace of mind, business is in the dumps all around.Sometimes I think people dont like wearing clothes and are bent on killing the tailor in me.

My blogs dont rake in the bread is the greatest rant of my wife and a chorus from her daughter against me..

My sons are more peaceful, more obedient including my son in law who is also my son per se.

He has only racing cars in his photo shop head ..resized and rasterized in words of marital comfort.

Marrying a Shakir is like a monkey taking a ride on the back of a hungry crocodile aaaaaaaaaaah

Mangla calls me bhau, brother and is mad about Marziya , I have a great relationship with the Koli fisherwown of Bandra Bazar Fish Market , but when it comes to business they wont give me a penny discount..but than Mangla will tell the person concerned to make the price less ..as he writes about us ..our difficulties our struggle .Honestly the fisherwfolks or the kolis have been totally neglected and no State government has ever done much for them in terms of education..and better life.

They slog like their mother did , their mothers mother did , no one can break this karmic chain of misery and neglect.

I did not buy any fish as it was far too expensive ..though a few days back my neighbor Nasirbhai Hamdare made succulent crab curry Malvan style, and sent it for me..because it is taboo for us Makroo only I ate it as my son in law watched me with mouth watering lips..my daughter had warned him of the consequences ..mother and daughter are rolling pin experts ..

Kolis are great human beings the best segment of hospitality and Marathi charm.They are the torch bearers of love beyond regional boundaries , we all buy fish from the kolis.. they are honest and not deceitful

For a long time I thought I would write a few words about Mr Nari Gandhi the eminent nature friendly architect, but somehow it kept moving away from the horizon of my mind.

I worked at Kishore Bajajs Badasaab, 20 years back, and Mr Nari Gandhi was designing his Karjat farm house, that I had visited several times.

Mr Nari Gandhi was a fun loving man, humble, and his lady assistant was always with him, when they came to Kishore's fashion studio..he would chat with me as I was an avid reader and a pedestrian writer of sorts.

I had not yet ventured to cyberspace...he normally made his designs on the back of a bus ticket, he mostly commuted by bus.

I once remember giving him a thin book on Frank Loyd Wright that I had picked up at Chor Bazar, he gave me a smile thanked me and placed it with great care into his cloth bag that was part of his humble persona.

He knew I was Kishore's blue eyed boy, man Friday , but it was my colleague Subash who supervised the workers at the Karjat Farm, Subash was a designer too, till he met with a serious accident on his bike while coming back from Karjat on the highway..

Those days I did not really know why a Karjat bunglow was the cynosure of every eyes , I remember an incident a guy walked up to shoot the under constructed bungalow and Kishore known for his furious and tumultuous temper almost went after the poor guys ass.

Nari Saab loved Kishore Bada Saab..and they were seamed like two identities in one ..it has been almost 20 years since I left his job, but Mr Nari Gandhi stands out..along with the few memories that I have harbored in my mind.

I was not even a photographer than, sartorial serendipity got the better of me.. and I was not that wild too..

So I look back on those old times as misty eyed nostalgia...

I met Kishor Bajaj after 20 years recently, at his posh office space and it was a walk back into lost horizons and lost frontiers of the mind , we spoke , I still consider him my boss, and a person in the right sense who got rid of my alcoholism

.Kishore Bajaj is also a reputed builder a self made man he rose he rose ..remembers this thorn called Firoze , memories dont die unread chapters never close ..quietly the river of life flows..scavenging spirituality man the soul of a dove in the body of a crow...and I wish him his family his daughter Kresha the very best for all times to come..

My wife perhaps Kishore has forgotten always tied a Rakhi on Kishore's hand..on Rakhi day..a silken thread that holds the microcosm of mans heritage and a sisters love for her brother.

After leaving Kishore Bajaj I worked for another seven years with Nitin Manmohan film producer now builder at a shop still dear to my heart Prachins named after Prachi his loving daughter.

I left that 10 years back to come into my own...walk my own path till my friend Andy Sam photographer on Flickr told me he had worked on some projects of Mr Nari Gandhi...and this post came to be born.

The only sad part is the one bungalow of Mr Sadruddin Daya of Dawood Shoes designed by Mr Nari Gandhi at Versova, (when I last saw it )was in shambles , let out for film shoots and a real sorry state when I went to meet an actor at a shoot long time back..

The guy is a trainer , for kick boxing, and the goat bakra loves him, they have friendly duels at Bandra Bazar Road ..I shot a few frames but cars trucks rickshas pass this way so I had to shoot rapidly and watch my water colored ass too...

And the irony of the goat is that he will soon be slaughtered for Bakra Idd..

Kids love to be photographed - when I photograph them they go crazy with excitement...and lucky for them I am a mere normal man, now imagine the same shot was captured by the American photographer Teresa Burke..the kids would be like a house on fire including their school bus..this is the holistic aspect and peaceful nature of photography only the camera binds people to their surroundings like nothing else does.

One day Teresa Burke aka Dragonfly just might be shooting pictures along with me with Marziya babysitting Roman and Chloe..and Wanda Brown Eyes ..not getting tired of shooting me with a macro..now why the hell she thinks my head is like the petals of a flower in gloom or is it doom .ha ha ha

Glenn is talking to Samiya and Assad about the finer aspects of life before they settle down in Berkershire UK....with Lefty as their neighbor.

Fred is our house guest, we made him a cot in the kitchen and than we could not help it Fred is a foodie too.

Anthony Posey missed his flight he is in Agra with his wife enjoying the beauty of Taj Mahal.

as it movesround and roundto man and his karma boundsearching for peacepage cannot be displayedpage cannot be foundman suffers whilethe puppeteer fast asleepsafe and soundman the protagonistthe villain the heroof an unwritten scriptrises every timehe is trouncedmaster slavesatrap knaveuncrowned

Most of you guys out there wont believe this , and I dont know whether you should, she is a very simple Muslim lady, who collects tiffins from homes of school kids and than bundles them up in a ricksha to deliver it on time to the kids at various schools of Bandra.

Than she waits the kids finish their lunch she brings the tiffins to deliver it back to the kids house.

I have shot her twice, both the times her pictures did not make it to my camera,or to my computer.

This happens when some Bawas or Naga Sadhus place a very strong energy round themselves , the pictures come black hazy, washed out and in some cases dont come at all.

This lady is a very friendly person, the ricksha guys dont stop for her , I help her get into the ricksha so she not wanting me shoot her pictures is not the case here.

She is the Dabbewali of Bandra , she has been doing this task for over 30 years, kids salute her , though she grumbles a lot, I found her of a congenial nature and nice disposition.

I told her that I could not find her earlier pictures I had shot of her, she gave me a cunning smile..so now I have decided to shoot some more pictures of her to find out if they disappear again.or if she is playing game with me at my expense.

bandra bazar marketworse than a communityunflushed toiletshit is what you getnow seeing this pictureyour stomachmight get slightly upsetthe filthiest stinkingarea now sharing spaceon the internetthe road litteredwith chicken leftoversfish leftoversprawn shellsa feathered threatmoments of shopping hereor living in the vicinitya thought to regretbut beggars cant be choosersthe mucky road all wetpoliticians do pass this waybut tinted glassessave them from this miseryyou betelectronic mediadoe not shoot thisit is just rakhi sawantswaymvarthe hottest showon your television set

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About Firoze Shakir Poet

Firoze Shakir

Photographerno1..is a Shia mystic a Dam Madar Malang ..they don't make like this any more.. he walks on fire,self flagellates,cuts his forehead each Moharam.. he is sane as sane as you or the guy next door,..HE WALKS BARE FEET..MOCKING AND KISSING THE GROUND WITH HIS FEAT.. THEY SHED TEARS TOO..SOAKED IN BLOOD OF PAIN.

I shoot pictures of pain , as I see pain in the viewfinder of my soul, my poems are my personal thoughts , perhaps they are a bit opinionated.I am not a Mullah or a preacher ,I give space I don't need to grab attention.